I rolled over my finger

On the head of a rose

It was smooth and bulky

Like a face way back to my road

 

With each touch of the finger

On the petals of the rose

I loosed myself in the skin of a rose

 Which I never touched

Like this beautiful rose

 

It drifted back

To save her self

She said to me don’t touch me again

I moved my hands back

To feel her safe

 

Then I said to myself why?

Then my anxiety made me to do it again

 With several tickles on the petals

I experienced the extreme smoothness again

I rolled my finger all over the rose

But my finger didn’t stopped until

A petal, broken down on the floor……

 

Hari Das